Chapter 2: The Splintering Sky
There is a moment when a soul realizes it is not whole.
It does not scream.
It does not shatter loudly like glass dropped on a gym floor.
It… separates.
Quietly.
Like a breath that forgets to return.
Miwa never noticed the exact moment it began.
Not when she first touched a volleyball.
Not when her brother first looked at her like she was something unreachable.
Not even when she stood alone in an empty gym, the ball echoing against polished wood like a heartbeat that didn't belong to her.
No.
It began long before she understood what volleyball even meant.
It began when pressure met passion…
…and refused to collapse.
When Miwa was younger, she wanted to quit.
It wasn't dramatic.
No tears.
No breakdown.
Just a quiet decision forming in the corner of her mind.
Grow out your hair.
Be normal.
Leave volleyball behind.
The thought was gentle.
Tempting.
A soft, warm blanket promising rest.
She even held the scissors once.
Silver blades catching light like a final decision.
That was when she heard it.
Not with her ears.
But somewhere deeper.
"...So you're running away?"
Miwa froze.
The room didn't change.
The air didn't shift.
But something… stood behind her.
Watching.
Judging.
Waiting.
"Who…?"
"You already know."
And she did.
Because when she turned,
she wasn't alone.
The girl standing there looked like her.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same body.
But where Miwa hesitated…
this version of her did not.
Her posture was sharp.
Her gaze unwavering.
Her presence,
overwhelming.
"I'm you," the girl said simply.
"Or more accurately… the part of you that refuses to lose."
Miwa tightened her grip on the scissors.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Of course it doesn't," the other girl smiled.
"You're the part that wants things to make sense."
Silence stretched between them.
Thick.
Heavy.
Like the moment before a serve that decides everything.
"What's your name?" Miwa asked.
The girl tilted her head.
For a second, she looked almost amused.
Then she answered:
"Artmis."
Not Artemis.
Not quite.
Something… sharper.
Like a name that had been reforged.
"You're… my alter ego?" Miwa asked.
Artmis stepped closer.
Each step echoed like a declaration.
"Not just that."
She placed a hand over Miwa's chest.
"Your stress."
"Your frustration."
"Your love for volleyball that refuses to die."
Her smile widened.
"I'm what happens when all of that refuses to break."
Miwa's heart pounded.
Not in fear.
But recognition.
Because everything Artmis said,
was true.
"I want to quit," Miwa whispered.
"I know."
"I'm tired."
"I know."
"I don't want to keep chasing something I might never reach."
Artmis leaned in slightly.
Her eyes gleamed.
"Then don't chase it."
Miwa blinked.
"…What?"
"Dominate it."
The word hit like a spike.
Clean.
Unavoidable.
"If you can't reach it," Artmis continued,
"then stand at the top and make everything else reach you."
Miwa's fingers loosened.
Clattering against the floor like a decision breaking apart.
"I can't do that."
Artmis smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
But with absolute certainty.
"You can't."
A pause.
"I can."
Silence again.
But this time…
it felt different.
"What are you saying?" Miwa asked.
Artmis extended her hand.
"Let me play."
The gym felt smaller.
The world felt narrower.
Everything reduced to one moment.
One choice.
"If I let you…" Miwa hesitated.
"…what happens to me?"
Artmis's expression softened, just slightly.
Not enough to be comforting.
But enough to be honest.
"You won't disappear."
"Then what?"
"You'll watch."
That should have been terrifying.
Losing control.
Letting something else take over.
Becoming… secondary.
But Miwa didn't feel fear.
She felt,
relief.
"…Will you win?" she asked quietly.
Artmis didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
That was enough.
Miwa reached out.
Their hands touched.
And something shifted.
It wasn't a clean merge.
Not a simple "two become one."
It was,
layering.
Like two voices speaking through the same throat.
Like two instincts occupying the same body.
Like one soul…
learning to exist in pieces.
From that day forward,
Miwa was never alone again.
She didn't notice the small changes at first.
The way her movements became sharper.
The way hesitation vanished.
The way every ball entering her range…
felt like it already belonged to her.
But others noticed.
Her brother noticed.
"...Sis?"
She had been helping him train.
At first, it was normal.
Encouraging.
Supportive.
But then,
it changed.
"Too slow."
Her voice was calm.
Flat.
Precise.
"The ball dies the moment it leaves your hands."
He flinched.
"…What?"
"You're setting like you're asking for permission."
She tossed him the ball.
"Don't ask."
"Command."
He stared at her.
Confused.
A little scared.
But also,
drawn in.
"Again," she said.
And he did.
Hours passed.
Then days.
Then weeks.
Something strange happened.
They got better.
Together.
Not just in skill.
But in something deeper.
Loneliness.
That quiet, creeping feeling of standing on a court and realizing no one truly understands what you're trying to do,
it started to fade.
Because Miwa,
no.
Because they,
understood.
Every set he made…
she was already there.
Every spike she took…
he had already seen.
It wasn't communication.
It wasn't teamwork.
It was synchronization.
And somewhere within that rhythm,
Miwa still existed.
Watching.
Learning.
She wasn't gone.
She was,
becoming.
Time moved.
Seasons changed.
And eventually,
the name spread.
"Shiratorizawa's Ishtar."
A player who could attack from anywhere.
Any angle.
Any position.
A ball within reach…
was already dead.
Opponents didn't understand it.
Coaches couldn't explain it.
"How is she always ready?"
They asked the wrong question.
It wasn't about readiness.
It was about ownership.
The court wasn't something she played on.
It was something she ruled.
And somewhere deep inside,
Miwa smiled.
Because she wasn't watching someone else live her life.
She was watching herself…
become something greater than she ever could have been alone.
But even that,
was only the beginning.
Because a soul does not split once.
Not when it realizes it can survive fragmentation.
Not when it learns that breaking…
does not mean ending.
Somewhere far beyond that gym.
Beyond that life.
Beyond that world,
something impossible was happening.
A soul,
one that did not belong to this world,
was being torn apart.
Not violently.
Not cruelly.
But deliberately.
Like a master sculptor carving a single block into many perfect forms.
Each fragment carried something different.
Emotion.
Instinct.
Desire.
Will.
And one of those fragments,
drifted.
Falling.
Spinning.
Searching.
Until,
It found her.
Miwa.
Or more precisely,
the space within her that had already learned how to share.
The fragment didn't force its way in.
It didn't overwrite.
It didn't consume.
It simply…
fit.
Like a missing piece that had always been meant to be there.
And in that moment,
something new was born.
Not Miwa.
Not Artmis.
But something that understood both.
Something that would one day look at the world,
and not just dominate it…
…but rewrite it.
The present snapped back into place.
The scoreboard read:
50 - 0
Another game.
Another domination.
Another silent declaration.
Miwa stood at the end of the court.
Ball in hand.
Breathing steady.
Her teammates cheered.
Her opponents stared.
But she only looked at one person.
Her brother.
She smiled.
Soft.
Familiar.
But with something deeper behind it.
"Lil brother…"
Her voice carried across the court.
"If I don't give up volleyball…"
She tossed the ball lightly.
Caught it.
"You better promise to give me the best set in the world."
He scoffed.
Turning away slightly.
Trying to hide the fire in his eyes.
"Hmph. Of course I will, sis."
A pause.
Then,
"I'll be the best setter in the world one day."
He glanced back.
Grinning.
"Just you wait."
Miwa's smile widened.
"I'll be waiting at the top."
And somewhere deep inside her,
something stirred.
Not just Artmis.
Not just Miwa.
But the fragment.
Watching.
Learning.
Waiting.
Because this story,
wasn't about one girl becoming strong.
It was about a soul…
learning how to exist as many.
And what happens,
when those pieces finally decide…
to come together.